It's Kind of a Funny Story
by EsaEnai
Summary: Luke Mochrie didn't know what to expect from being checked into a mental ward, but a group including a masked musician, a foul-mouthed movie critic, a narcissistic film snob and an insomniac gamer certainly wasn't it. Recovering one's sanity isn't easy when everyone's crazier than you. Co-written with Zeshaika; includes most of the TGWTG cast.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This story is co-written by the lovely Zeshaika, who is just as much of a fan of TGWTG as I am. It will feature a large amount of the TGWTG Team, and will be more humorous than my other TGWTG story. Hope you enjoy, and please leave constructive criticism.**

**Trigger warning: mentions of mental disorders, none graphic.**

**We don't own any aspect of TGWTG characters or plotlines. This story refers to the characters of TGWTG, and is in no way related to the actual people on the site.**

Luke was positive that if he didn't look up, he would be alright.

The mop-topped teenager was bent at the waist, arms crossed tightly as he stared at the carpet. The couch beneath him creaked slightly as his knee bounced furiously up and down, up and down, more or less to the loud beat from the speakers nearby.

It was ten twenty-five. One hour until he got to go home. Until he could go home, sit on his couch, watch a movie. Until he didn't feel like his stomach was going to split in half. He could last one more hour.

"Luke!" a voice called out, barely noticeable over the loud club music- at least, it would be for anyone not currently trying to remain invisible. A tall, tanned boy squirmed through the crowd, only fellow clubbers keeping him from stumbling to the ground.

Luke hated it when Mark drank. It made him loud.

"Hey, dude," the boy laughed, settling down next to the thin boy on the bench. "Been looking for you. Why aren't you dancing?"

Luke tried to think of a good reason (beyond "I don't feel like it"), and failed. He shrugged, causing his friend to click his tongue and shake his head.

"Man, I brought you out here to get _loose_," he whined, elbowing Luke softly in the side. "You need to relax. Y'know? Just chill out. Have fun. What do you want to do? Get a drink? Dance?"

"Watch a movie," Luke said plainly. Mark rubbed his forehead in irritation.

"You're hopeless. Hang on… YO!" The boy waved an arm towards the crowd, and two people broke off from the group. Two girls in short dresses.

Luke felt his throat go dry. _No. No, no, no. Go away. Don't talk to me. PLEASE don't talk to me._

"Hi," one of the girls cooed, both settling down on the couch. Mark grinned widely.

"Luke, these are my new friends. Vanessa, Marissa; Luke."

"Hi, Luke," Marissa giggled. Or was it Vanessa? The only visible difference was that the one looking at him had blonder hair and smaller breasts than her friend. She was smiling, but Luke saw the question in her eyes. She was wondering what was wrong with him. Why he wasn't saying anything back.

_Say something back, you idiot._

"H-hey," he managed to say, ducking his head. One of the girls (the one currently wrapped around Mark's bicep) gave a loud peal of laughter.

"Aw! He's shy!"

_Shy. Stupid. Weird. Same thing._

"Let's dance," Mark said, either trying to save his friend from further embarrassment or trying to see how far he could get with Mar-nessa. Either way, he pulled his girl up and gave Luke a death glare. Quailing under his friend's gaze, Luke allowed himself to be pulled off the couch and onto the dance floor- just as the song switched from pounding bass to smooth R&B.

"Alright boys and girls," the disc jockey chuckled over the mike. "This here's a slow number. So grab somebody and get close…"

_Dear God, no._

Luke felt his stomach twist as Van-rissa pulled him in and wrapped her arms around his neck. Too much in shock to do much but realize she smelled like apples, he placed his hands gingerly on her waist.

This would be fine. He could do this. As long as no one looked at him and no one talked-

"So, is Luke short for Lucas?" Van-rissa murmured directly into his left ear.

Luke's stomach twisted again. He swallowed hard. "Y-yeah… it's uh… Lucas. But I mean, I go by Luke to most people. Except my teachers. Well, not all my teachers. But mainly it's uh… it's Luke." He winced inwardly even as the words left his mouth. He sounded drunk. Or crazy.

There was a short silence, as Luke felt the girl shift away from him slightly. "Hm. Where do you go to school?"

"UCLA." Good. One word-answer.

"What's your favorite subject?"

Oh God, no. He was going to sound stupid. "Um… I, uh… don't have one."

Van-rissa shifted again. Now they were dancing an arm's length apart; seventh-grade style. "Don't be dumb," she chastised, raising an eyebrow. "Everyone has one."

"I'm not… dumb. I'm sorry," he said quickly, stuttering slightly.

"Why are you apologizing?" Van-rissa asked, looking more than a little confused, and (Luke thought) irritated. "Are you okay? You don't look good."

_What's wrong with you? Why can't you just act normal for once?_

Luke let go of the girl's waist, backing up slightly. His stomach had begun to cramp, and he felt a cold sweat dripping down the back of his neck. "I… um…"

A body bumped into his. "Hey!" a man yelled, glaring down at him. "Check yourself, bro!"

People started to turn around. They were staring at him. Judging him. Laughing at him. The crowd pushed in on him. Luke tried to move, tried to walk away. He bumped into the man again, who pushed him roughly.

"What's your freaking problem, bro?" the man bellowed, scowling. Luke's stomach heaved as he stumbled away, trying to keep his balance despite the spinning of the room.

So many faces. Watching him. Judging him. Teasing him. He couldn't take it anymore.

Luke turned around and threw up. Right onto a pair of high heels. A loud screech pounded into his ears, and a pair of hands shoved him away. Van-rissa was staring at him in shock and anger.

He had to get away. They wouldn't stop looking at him. He just needed to leave. He pushed his way to the exit, bursting through the door into the cold smokiness of late Chicago air.

Mark would be angry. Vanessa and Marissa would be angry. Everyone was angry at him.

Luke ran.

Sides heaving, Luke collapsed onto a bench. His heart was pounding in his chest. His mouth tasted terrible. He was alone. In a park. No one around.

No one watching him.

Luke's breathing began to slow, yet his stomach continued to cramp. Sweat had soaked through the button-down he had borrowed from Mark. He pulled it off and threw it, remaining in a white T-shirt. It had been too big anyway. And Mark was already mad at him.

He tilted his head back, closing his eyes. The night flashed before him, the faces and accusing eyes of the clubbers etching into the black behind his eyes. Their laughter. Their shouts.

Luke's stomach heaved again, but there was nothing left to come up. He felt empty. Empty and stupid. And he was sweaty and cold and shaking.

He was sick; he knew it. It was the only explanation. He needed to go to a hospital… but they'd ask questions. They'd need him to talk.

Hospital was out. Maybe he could go home… but Mark lived next door. He'd yell. Luke couldn't handle any yelling.

Luke leaned forward, leaning his elbows on his knees and gripping his head in his hands. He squeezed his eyes shut. He had never messed up as royally as this. What was he going to do?

"Hey."

Luke froze, his mind flashing instantly to cops, muggers, rapists -

"Hey, look at me. C'mon. I won't hurt you."

Luke took a deep breath. It was a woman's voice. She sounded nice. Her voice was measured; slow. He raised his head.

She had short, brown hair with stripes of purple down the front. Her face had no makeup. She was looking him over critically, and he shrunk into himself slightly. She was wearing scrubs under her coat.

A nurse.

"Hey, it's alright," the woman said softly. She had her hands out, palms up. "Are you okay?"

Luke tried to speak; tried to explain. But he couldn't.

The nurse nodded, seeming to understand. Luke's spine relaxed slightly. "If you want to come with me," she said, "I'm on my way to my job. There are people there who can help you. But I'm not making you," she said hurriedly. "It's up to you."

Luke took a deep breath. Then another. And, finally, he worked up his courage and said. "I'm not supposed to… get in cars… with strangers."

The nurse smiled at him. "The hospital is walking distance."

Luke swallowed again, standing up. "Okay. Will I… have to talk to anyone?"

The nurse hadn't lied; no one talked to him. She had handed him a tiny Dixie cup of water, and a piece of paper to fill out with his name, age, allergies, blah, blah, blah. Later came the question of why he was there. He didn't really know what to put besides "out of my mind," so he settled on "panic attack and nausea."

Then came an odd question: _Are you anxious around others? How much, on a scale from 1-10?_

Luke wrote down a seven. Then he rethought it, crossed it out, and wrote down a four. Then he remembered Van-rissa's face, crossed it out again, and wrote down a ten.

Then he waited, noting that the room seemed to be extremely hot. Although it may have been because he had been sitting in Chicago in the middle of the night, wearing nothing but a T-shirt and corduroys.

The nurse eventually led Luke into a small room just down the hall from the reception desk. Nervously, the curly haired young man's eyes darted around, desperately trying to avoid the room's two other occupants.

"Luke," the nurse said in a sweet voice as she waved toward the two doctors now staring at him, "These are Doctor Block and Doctor Tease. They'll be talking with you for a little bit."

Sweat beaded on his forehead, possibly from nervousness or due to the temperature in the room being closer to a furnace, as the two doctors stared at him with hungry, eager expressions, as if he were a frog in the middle of a biology lab, waiting to be dissected.

The nurse began talking to the doctors in a low voice, though Luke caught the phrase "anxiety" a few times. He zoned out the speech, taking the time to investigate the two doctors.

The one on the right was short, squat, and professional. She had thick-frame glasses that looked suspiciously plastic, a yellow pencil stuck in her frizzy brown hair, and was listening intently to the nurse. The other doctor, a very sultry looking blonde with librarian glasses and several pens stuck haphazardly into a messy bun, ignored the conversation, opting instead to continue staring at their new patient with an intense interest that made him want to vanish into the walls.

"I beg your pardon," the brunette doctor huffed suddenly, "But what do you mean by "be careful"? Are you saying that you don't trust us to exercise the best action for the well-being of our patients?" Her reassurance was interrupted as she slapped her fellow doctor on the shoulder, jolting the blond from her piercing gaze. "Doctor Tease!" The brunette exclaimed, "Please stop staring at the patient and pay attention."

Tease only made a face in response as both she and her partner returned their attention to the nurse. However, the nurse seemed at ease; Luke got the impression she had dealt with the two in the past.

"It's not that," she intervened smoothly, tucking a strand of purple hair behind her ear. "It's just that some of the other doctors find your patient interview methods a little… eccentric."

"Of course they are!" Tease interjected, "We have a duty to our patients- nay, to _science itself_, to be as involved and dedicated to our work as possible. And if that involves lesser-known techniques, so be it."

"That's not quite what I meant," The nurse interrupted again, earning yet another reproving look from the two doctors. "I'm referring to the event with the plumber and the ice cream truck…"

"An experimental therapy technique," Tease declared. "And as you well know, that man can almost walk now and he dropped the lawsuit almost immediately."

"Or the incident with the cockaroaches in the maternity wing…?" the nurse continued.

Doctor Block tilted her head. "What cockaroaches?"

"Yes," Doctor Tease added quickly, eyes shifting back and forth. "We have no earthly clue what you're talking about."

The nurse raised an eyebrow, but handed them Luke's folder. "Go easy on him," she told them firmly, giving Luke a smile as she exited the room.

With no human barrier to protect him from the two doctor's intense gazes, Luke's heart began to race as he shrank back against the armchair he was sitting in. He hoped that if he made himself appear small enough, he'd fall through the uncomfortably scratchy fabric of the chair and disappear from his captors' sharp gazes. Couldn't they just give him some Tums and let him go home?

But alas, the too-firm padding within the chair would not yield and provide him shelter. Doctor Block, as her lab coat proclaimed, ignored the young man's nervousness, as she started scribbling in her notes.

_Please don't talk to me, _Luke thought as squeezed his eyes shut, _please don't talk to me. Please don't talk to me. Please don't…_

"So," the blonde doctor began, looking over the file that the nurse had given them, "Your name is Luke, correct?"

"Yes..." the curly haired young man all but squeaked as he shrank back even further in the chair.

He felt like a timid mouse, corned by a hungry cat. All he wanted was an escape—any small secret passage that could get him out of this clinic with its stagnant smell of iodine and fish-oil and uncomfortably warm rooms, and away from the two doctors and their questions.

He felt as if they were judging him behind those pairs of thick-rimmed glasses on their faces, and so far they did not like what they were seeing, even if they tried to mask it under a blank, unreadable mask of calmness.

"Luke," Doctor Tease said, "When did you start to feel these feelings of anxiety around others first begin?"

Nervously, Luke fidgeted with a loose string on the armchair's upholstery, trying to avoid eye contact with her, as he tried to think of the answer. In a way, he admitted, he couldn't remember exactly when it'd started.

He'd always felt kind of nervous and shy around people, even as a kid. It'd never been anything serious or out of the ordinary; a lot of kids were shy. It'd only been rather recently that it'd gotten to the point that it seemed to go beyond shyness and straight into… something else.

"I-I don't know…." Luke mumbled, more to himself than to the doctors, "I-I just don't like talking sometimes…"

He winced as he saw Doctor Block enthusiastically scribbling something in her notes. Each curved line of graphite scratched into the yellowing paper felt like a death sentence, sealing his fate into eternal damnation.

"Why do you not like talking to people?" Tease asked, leaning forward with a focused gaze that was more than a little unhinged.

"Well," Luke said, still only barely audible, "People make me nervous sometimes. It's like I can hear them thinking: 'Look at this loser kid. Doesn't he know anything? What's wrong with him?' Okay, maybe not exactly those words… and they're not always thinking that..."

"You hear voices?" Tease asked perking up, "Other people's thoughts, you say?"

Beside her, Doctor Block had begun scrawling on the notepad furiously, as if she'd suddenly been hit with a shot full of caffeine and sugar. Her hands shook with barely contained excitement, almost dropping the pencil as she wrote.

"Not really," Luke explained, "More like, I kind of imagine that people have this sort of… expectation for me. Like they already know that I'm going to screw up and they're just waiting for me to do it. And I… always do."

Tease frowned as she slumped back disappointedly. Likewise, Doctor Block's hyperactive hand slowed to a steadier pace, taking time to erase several lines from her notes.

"I just don't like talking to people," Luke continued. "I don't… I don't know why."

From there, the conversation continued without much trouble. Although the same nervousness persistence within the pit of Luke's stomach, slowly eating away at him until he felt like he was going to throw up again, he no longer seemed to have any trouble speaking clearly enough. Mainly because it was Doctor Block who began to talk to him whilst still looking down at her notepad, and Doctor Tease was content to sit and pick at her fingernails.

_Just answer their questions and finish the conversation_, a voice said in the back of his mind, _the sooner you finish answering their questions, the sooner you can leave. And, the sooner you leave, the sooner you can just go home, go to bed, and forget this ever happened._

After a half an hour that felt like a miniature eternity, the interview finally ended. Sweat trickled down Luke's neck, dampening the collar of his shirt, as the two female doctors discussed something in voices too low for him to properly hear.

Straining his ears, he tried to pick up even a small fraction of what they were saying. Only a few scattered words and phrases were easily decipherable. Among those Luke swore he heard the words "ward four," and "further observation."

The young man's heart tightened in his chest, as he thought he detected grim traces of concerned frowns upon their faces as they looked over him with furtive glances. What did this mean, he wondered, his heart starting to race again. What did they mean by further observation? Where was "ward four"? _What_ was "ward four?"

_It means you're crazy, _a little voice in the back of his mind sneered, _Congratulations, Luke; you've finally snapped. And what's your prize? A nice padded cell all to yourself! It's kind of small, and there's not any view, but it comes with an adorable matching strait-jacket._

That couldn't be true, Luke protested, shaking his head as if that would dispel these venomous thoughts that clung there like a pair of fuzzy socks to a sweater in the dryer. He wasn't insane was he? Sure, he had apprehensions and the occasional proneness to panic attacks when being around people, but that was normal. Right?

"Doctors?" he asked, his voice cracked and raspy as the words slithered out of his suddenly dry throat, "I'm not… crazy, am I?"

The two doctors raised their eyebrows as they looked at each other for a moment. However, not more than two seconds had passed before the two ladies burst into a fit of giggles. Luke felt the bottom of his stomach threaten to split again, before the brunette gave him a wide grin. "We don't think you're 'crazy' per se," Doctor Block said, smiling, "But, we think that you may have a case of Social Anxiety Disorder."

All at once, the feeling in Luke's body seemed to be drained as he leaned back in the chair. Whether it was from fear or relief, he didn't know.

"Now," Block continued, "usually this type of disorder is very common, and very easy to treat with the proper therapy. However, due to the extreme nature of your case, we'd like to place you in ward four of the hospital's psychiatric ward."

"Wait," Luke said, sitting up suddenly, "You still want to commit me to…" He trailed off slightly, throat going dry. Swallowing hard, he managed to choke out, "…the psyche ward? Am I really that… bad?"

"Don't worry," Block reassured him, "it's only temporary so that we can better observe you and test our hypothesis, and perhaps find… alternative means of treating you." Luke didn't like the way her eyes lit up at the phrase "alternative means."

"Besides," Tease added, "Ward four is usually where the more functional of the crazies go. You'll be in good company."

The stocky brunette glared reproachfully at her fellow doctor as she stepped on her foot. "What my colleague is trying to say," Block laughed weakly, "is that ward four is usually reserved for keeping observation over our more functional patients—the ones who are there voluntarily—and unique, relatively non-dangerous cases under special observation. Of course, we suggest this only if you are willing to be placed under observation."

For a while, Luke sat quietly as he contemplated the doctors' offer. On one hand, committing himself to a mental ward, no matter how minor the case, felt kind of awkward. There was a certain stigma attached to being in a mental hospital that, while he personally didn't agree with, others would surely be very quick to judge him based upon.

On the other hand, he thought, if he had a problem, especially one so bad that it made sitting through a simple interview feel worse than being tortured with a piece of hot copper wire through his skull, it was probably safe to say that he probably needed just a little help.

Besides, the little voice of optimism within him said, perhaps being around other people and making a few friends around here would probably help in the long run.

"Okay," he said finally, "I'll do it."

"Good," the blonde scientist smiled as she and her colleague began to guide him out of the room, "I'll have MarzGurl pass the paperwork along to you. Don't worry, your stay here will be very…interesting."

The sly grins that spread across the two doctor's lips seemed to suggest that the two were sharing a joke that Luke could not possibly begin to understand. Once more his heart started to race as he followed the two down the hallway, meeting up with the purple-headed nurse they called "MarzGurl". One question played over and over in his mind, repeating itself like a broken record:

_What have I gotten myself into? _

**A/N: Please review with any advice or concerns, and once again a big thank you to my co-writer Zeshaika. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Zeshaika and I would like to thank everyone who reviewed and favorited. This chapter gives us a look at some of the people in the hospital- a few more familiar faces.**

* * *

From years of watching movies about them, Luke knew exactly what to expect from an insane asylum.

There would be foul-smelling, dingy gray-white walls with chipped and peeling paint, a few insane ramblings scrawled on them by some feral lunatic with matted hair and foam dripping from his mouth. Ancient looking light bulbs with exposed wires would hang from the ceiling, emitting a sallow light that did less to illuminate the room and more to make the torn, misshapen furniture look even more twisted and broken. Surely, he'd hear the muffled, animalistic screams of another hapless prisoner as several hundred volts of electricity passed through their skull.

It was almost a shock to the curly-haired boy when he noticed that the ward that the nurse, MarzGurl, lead him into was almost the opposite. Sure, it was by no stretch of the imagination what one would call "pleasant" or "inviting" with its plain white walls and its sterile, unfeeling florescent glow, but it certainly didn't look like something out of the fantasies of a horror fetishist.

"This is the room you'll be staying for a while," Marz explained, motioning toward the end of the hallway, "You'll have to share it with a roommate, but you'll get used to it. I'll have an intern get some of your stuff from home- make it more homey for you."

Luke nodded, but without the two doctors, as intimidating as they might have been, to protect him, he felt like he was being walked to the gallows. Or maybe the door to Roman coliseum, with a hungry lion waiting to snap up the fresh meat.

Again, it was to his vague shock and amazement when the nurse led him into a rather small, reasonably comfortable room. Two twin beds one unmade, filled most of the space, divided by a small bedside table. Across from them were two plain, wooden dressers and a mirror. It was almost comforting in its plainness.

So focused was Luke on determining whether the walls were cream or sea foam (either way, so long as he was looking at the walls, nobody would bother paying any attention to him), that he'd failed to notice the sleeping figure laying in bed near the window. He hadn't even heard the bear-like snores of the figure, having assumed that it was simply the heaters kicking in. That was however, until the sound suddenly stopped and the figure stirred.

"What the fucking fuck?" A deep voice groaned, "Marz? What's going on? I need at least nine hours of sleep per night if I'm going to keep myself in top creative capacity. Genius doesn't come easy, thank you very much."

Immediately, Luke's eyes darted toward the voice, and almost immediately wished he hadn't. A very sly looking man with dark, receding hair and the traces of a scraggly goatee glared at him and the nurse. He let out a large yawn, removing the eye-cover he'd been wearing on his face and groping around for the thick glasses resting on the bedside table.

But the angry glare or even the unexpected presence of another occupant in the room was not what had made Luke's mouth feel as if it had suddenly been stuffed with cotton. No, there was something that, even had he not been affected by any form of social anxiety, still would have made him just as uncomfortable.

Underneath the layers of blanket, the man was naked. Totally, completely naked.

It was only a small relief, Luke sighed inwardly, that there was sheets of fabric were draped in such a way that concealed any bits of skin and external organs that etiquette demanded remained covered in company of others. However, there was just a bit of exposed hip peeking out from the edge of the blankets that (unfortunately) provoked the viewer to imagine what lay underneath.

"Sorry, Snob," Marz replied, seemingly unfazed. "But, unlike you, I've got actual _work_ that's got to get done."

"Well, at least it's _you_," Snob replied, sitting up a little more, making Luke wince uncomfortably as just another inch or two of bare skin revealed itself, "and not that med-school kid. Film Head or some shit. Guy calls himself a movie buff, yet he's never even heard of _my_ work… Who's the kid?"

As Snob's sleepy, but still wild and piercing eyes, fell squarely on Luke, the younger man shrank back, trying to hide behind MarzGurl, only to find that she sidestepped him, reaching into the closet, grabbing several blankets from one of the shelves. Then he just focused on becoming invisible as soon as possible.

"Him?" the purple-haired nurse said, not looking up as she started making up the empty bed near the window, "That's your new roommate. And you two better get along. We're not transferring you again."

Snob let out a barking laugh. "Hey, I didn't have a problem with the last guy," he replied. "Still, freak kept me up all the time. Fucking nightmares and shit. Besides, he and that book weirdo seem to be playing house just fine."

MarzGurl rolled her eyes as she continued to arrange things around the room, seemingly ignoring both of the patients. Luke, although still somewhat daunted by the presence of this very intimidating looking man, had managed to calm himself down enough to realize that he should at least introduce himself.

"Um…hello," Luke waved meekly, not liking the sudden attention drawn to himself.

_...And now he's naked. _Luke tried to swallow back the hot waves of rising panic as the older man climbed out of the bed, causing the already perilously draped sheets slid off of Snob's midsection. _Very, very naked_. Panicked, the brown-eyed young man's eyes darted over to MarzGurl, as if seeking her advice for how to deal with the nude man that was standing before them. The nurse, however, didn't even bat an eyelash at Snob as she continued her through her routine.

Snob, however, seemed completely unaware of his new roommate's flustered reaction, as he took another few steps forward, covering the distance between his bedside and the nervous young man. He stuck out his hand to shake. "Call me the Cinema Snob. Got a real name, but can't let the hordes of fans find me."

"Many of our residents don't like to use their real names," Marz informed him calmly. "They like to keep their outside lives separate from their time here."

_Oh god_, Luke's mind screamed in panic, _He wants me to shake his hand. What do I do? Where am I supposed to look? I can't just leave him hanging- crap, don't say 'hanging'. Oh, god, don't look at it! Crap...just look at his eyes. That'll work._

Slowly, and with his eyes firmly locked on to the older man's brown eyes, Luke reached out and took Snob's hand, giving it a brief and light shake. "I'm Luke," he mumbled, almost afraid that the older man was going to crush his hand with his vice-like grip, "Luke Mochrie."

"So," Snob said with a smirk, "I take it that you're not used to being in the presence of such a handsome and amazing man." He rested a hand on his chest, raising a condescending eyebrow and smirking. "It's alright; I understand. Everybody gets a little nervous around the Cinema Snob."

"Five guesses what he's in here for," MarzGurl said under her breath to the embarrassed Luke, who was busy trying to find a decent place to keep eye contact without making it too obvious that he wasn't looking at Snob.

"…I'm standing right here, you know." Snob rolled his eyes, "…And for your information, the brainiacs running this place couldn't find their own asses in the dark with two hands and a flashlight, much less properly diagnose a person."

"Snob," MarzGurl continued patiently, ignoring the older man's snark, "is here for Narcissistic Personality Disorder."

"_Allegedly_," Snob added with a snort. "I still say that guy's just a plebian who couldn't recognize true genius if it bit off his junk."

Marz gave him a hard look. "You nearly slaughtered him after he said he didn't like your movie."

Once more, Luke trembled, looking between Snob and the nurse with wide-eyed panic. Hadn't Doctor Tease said something about the less dangerous people being kept here?

"He didn't understand the true beauty of exploitation," Snob replied defensively, getting a little red in the face, "An adaptation of _A Serbian Film_, as a musical? How could he not realize that by rearranging the content of the original work into another genre you allow people to examine the universal themes-"

"Examine the universal themes of the work in a new context," Marz finished in a weary voice. "Snob," she warned him carefully, "remember what the doctors told you about keeping your anger in check. If you've got something bothering you, wait until your therapy session tomorrow."

The older man scowled, grumbling under his breath as he turned and went back to bed (Luke now staring determinedly at the floor). The nurse clapped her hands together as she finished the last of her organization, and started to leave.

"Well," MarzGurl said, giving Luke a pat on the shoulder, "I've got to get back to work- check in on a few patients. Sorry about not really giving you much warning about Snob. Don't worry, though; outside of the whole narcissism and sleeping naked thing, he's actually a pretty okay guy."

"Once again," Snob called from his side of the room, "still within earshot. And I am _more_ than okay"

Marz fixed Luke with a compassionate glance. "Press the call button near the bed if you need me, and the red button if it's an emergency. Try to get some sleep."

Nervously, Luke nodded as the nurse disappeared through the door, leaving the two men alone. Luke glanced over at Snob, who was carefully taking off his glasses and grabbing his eye mask. Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "Did you really almost kill someone?"

"It was just a little disagreement," Snob yawned, sliding the eye-cover back over his eyes, "Just turn the light off. I gotta get some fuckin' sleep."

Nodding hesitantly, Luke flicked off the switch, plunging the room into darkness. A lonely sliver of moonlight flittered through the slit in the curtains as the curly-haired young man lay down on the mattress.

For the first time in the hours since he'd agreed to be placed in the hospital, an immense feeling of loneliness strike him. Why had he done this? He wondered. There wasn't anything wrong with him. He was just a little shy- that didn't make him _insane_.

_This was going to be a long night_.

* * *

The Cinema Snob snored.

This had never before been a problem for Luke; he'd been around snorers. Before he started rooming with Mark, his previous roommate had been a snorer. He could always handle it; could always manage to block it out with his headphones or just ignore it.

But the Cinema Snob was different. He was impossible to block out. He wheezed; he snorted; he mumbled to himself.

Luke was close to tearing his hair out. He couldn't confront his new roommate; the man was a mental patient who beat up critics and slept in the nude. Not the best person to wake up at two in the morning.

_But you're a mental patient too,_ the little voice in his head reminded him with a sneer. _Might as well get used to it. You've officially flown over the cuckoo's nest, Luke Mochrie. You're a freak. A nut. A lunatic._

"Shut up, brain," Luke muttered to himself, his voice coming out louder than he had planned. Snob's breath stuttered for a second, and Luke stiffened. Soon enough, however, Snob snuffled and rolled over again.

But it was true. What had he been thinking? He wasn't crazy; he certainly wasn't anything like the naked man currently muttering something about weasels and vacuum cleaners. He didn't belong here.

Luke sat up quietly in bed, wiping at his sweaty forehead. The noise; the stifling heat of the room (EVERY room, so far); the fear of the man only three feet to his right. He couldn't take it anymore. Not for however long the doctors were planning on keeping him here. Not even for another five minutes.

Luke swung his legs over the side of the bed, quickly pulling off the flannel pajama bottoms the nurse had given him and yanking his jeans on. The T-shirt was his; he had never changed it. He picked up his shoes and socks; he'd put them on outside.

Snob slept on as Luke inched his way towards the door, terrified for a moment that the nurse had locked it. To his relief it swung open with only a slight squeak. _Goodbye, random naked man,_ Luke thought as he stepped into the hallway. _Good luck. I won't be seeing you around._

It was at this point that Luke realized he had no idea which way to go.

He hadn't been paying attention when the nurse had led him to his room; they had turned corners, gone down hallways. Which ones? Realizing that the longer he stood still the sooner he'd be found, Luke chose the side of the hallway that seemed marginally cooler, and started walking.

His bare feet making little noise on the tile, Luke slunk past several doors.

_Linkara/ Spoony_

_NC/ Todd_

_Game Room_

Luke paused, blinking in confusion. Game Room? Psyche wards had Game Rooms? Curiosity overcoming him, Luke slunk forward and cracked the door slightly. A wave of icy air hit him, as well as a loud shout of anger.

"Ah, shit! Come ON!"

Startled, Luke lunged back from the door; head snapping back and forth as he checked to make sure no one was coming. The hallways remained silent, though the person behind the door let loose another blast of expletives.

"Fucking… NO! Ah, come on. Just- FUCK! NO!"

Inching forward, Luke cracked the door back open, peeking through. The room was mainly in shadow, outlines of boxes gloomy in the dark. The cold air was explained quickly, the one window in the room flung wide open. There was a television on the opposite wall, and the screen was flashing with pixelated explosions and soldiers diving for cover. A video game; by the looks of it, _Gears of War 2._ Luke was just recalling playing it with Mark a few times when the character on the screen ran into a grenade and a head of hair popped up from the couch.

"Oh, fuck you, Space Marine Four!" the man growled, body shifting from lying flat on the couch to sitting up. Long, black hair shifted as the man tilted his head to the side in anger, letting out a growl of irritation. Obviously, the game wasn't going well. But what was this man doing up at two in the morning? Was he a doctor? A patient?

Luke leaned a little farther forward, and the hinge of the door squeaked slightly. Immediately the game on the screen paused. The sudden silence was deadly, lasting for what seemed like forever before the man on the couch spun around violently and fixed Luke with a penetrating stare.

His face was a study in exhaustion. The bags under his eyes; the five o'clock shadow; the uncombed mane of black hair. Piercing blue irises bored into his face, circled by bloodshot eyes. Luke was suddenly reminded of Doctor Tease's assertion that the less dangerous "crazies" occupied Ward Four, yet this did nothing to ease the nervous spasms that shot through his stomach.

The man blinked a few times. "You a nurse?" Luke swallowed hard, but his throat remained too dry to speak. The man's look took on an air of impatience. "Are you going to take me back to my room?" he snapped. Luke shook his head, confused.

The man gave him a sudden wide grin, his mouth stretching wide enough to split his face in half. "Then get over here. I'm getting my ass handed to me by some kid in New Jersey." He snatched up another controller from the floor and waved it in Luke's general direction, eyes already going back to the game.

Luke felt numb from shock; the man's emotions had shifted so quickly, he felt dizzy. Was it possible to get mental whiplash?

"Dude. Multiplayer. Now," the man commanded without looking at him. "Or I'll tell the nurses you talk to your finger like that kid from _The Shining_." After Luke quickly trotted over to sit down, the man grinned.

The two played for a long while, the man silent except for the occasional swear. Not once did he speak to Luke, which the boy was relieved about. With his mind focused on the game, and with the chilly air from the open window providing a welcome relief from the humid atmosphere of the rest of the hospital, Luke's stomach began to unclench and he leaned back on the couch.

It was only after the pair reached the end of the match that the man spoke again. He sat forward, giving Luke a curious look. "When did you show up?"

Luke looked away, sorry the silence had ended. "Um… a few hours ago."

The man laughed loudly, making Luke flinch. "That's all? And you're already trying to run?"

Luke sat up straight. "I'm not… I wasn't…"

"Calm down; I'm not a shrink. I don't give a fuck if you wanted to go. It's just…" the man let out a snort, pushing his hair back with both hands. "_A few hours?_ Even I lasted three days before going all Shawshank on this place."

Luke had no response, so he did what he did best; he shrugged and looked at his feet. The man leaned down a bit more, evidently trying to catch his eye. "What are you in for?"

Luke took a slow breath, forcing himself to respond. "Social Anxiety."

"What's that?"

Another breath. "I don't… like to talk to people."

The man shrugged. "So? Neither do I."

"No, I…" Luke struggled to find the words to explain, but everything he thought of sounded stupid. He fell silent instead. Then, before he could stop them, words fell from his mouth. "Why are you awake?"

The man shrugged. "I'm always awake." Luke gave him a look of confusion, but the man simply smirked and shrugged. "Always. Can't help it."

"Insomnia?" Luke questioned. The man shook his head.

"Nah. Well… maybe. I don't know. I'm just never tired. Ever. At all. It's crap."

"How long has… has it been since you slept?"

The man raised an eyebrow. "What day is it?"

"Friday."

"Then three days. My record is six, but considering I spent most of the last day on a hospital bed I'm not sure if that counts. "

Luke felt his mouth threaten to drop open. "And you're… fine?"

"My eyes are a little fucked up; can't focus too well right now. Which, by the way, is the only reason I needed help here," the man said with a head-jerk towards the television. "Don't let it affect how you view my mad skills. The real question is: why are YOU awake?"

Luke felt his forehead begin to sweat again, but wouldn't let himself stay quiet. He had been doing too well to stop now. "I um… I couldn't be in my room anymore. I kept hearing this voice telling me that I was crazy, that I had made a mistake. I just… needed to get away."

Expecting a lecture on being pathetic or pessimistic, Luke was slightly surprised when the man gave him an odd, almost nervous look. "You hear voices?"

Luke couldn't help it; he laughed. "No; not yet, anyway."

The man gave a small chuckle. Then, after a long moment, he reached over the arm of the couch and picked up a grey hoodie. A small shuffle through the pockets revealed a few small white pills. "Here. Sleeping meds. Lucky for you, I didn't take it. They don't help. Just make me foggy." He held out his hand to Luke, grinning slightly. "But for you? That's a solid eight hours right there, no matter how loud those voices are."

Luke took one pill, looking at it. "What about… what about snoring?"

The man gave a short laugh. "They roomed you with Snob, huh?" At Luke's glance, he shook his head ruefully. "He still sleep nude?" Luke nodded. "Gross. Go to bed, kid."

Luke gave the man a small, crooked grin. "Thank you. I'm uh… Luke."

The man held out his hand to shake. "I'm Uh Spoony. Nice to meet you, Uh Luke."

Luke's smile faded at the tease, shaking the man's hand quickly and getting up from the couch. Almost to the door, Luke was stopped as Spoony called his name. He turned to look at him, and found the gamer giving him a hard stare.

"I've been in here for seven months. I've stopped running. It… gets easier. Just stick it out."

Luke nodded slowly, closing the door behind him and padding softly back to his room. He looked at the pill in his hand, worried about taking it.

Then a long, loud snore echoed down the hallway.

Luke dry-swallowed the pill.

* * *

**A/N: Read and Review! **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I know, I know; I've been gone for a while. I can explain, but will do so at the end of this chapter. Right now, let's just get to the action.**

* * *

Luke dreamed of losing his teeth.

He was sitting in class. There was a lecture going on. And then suddenly he was cupping his hands in front of him, and his teeth were rotting and falling out of his mouth. And he was running around, trying to show someone what was happening, but no one seemed to notice anything was wrong. No one seemed to care.

He woke up soon after the dream began, but the remnants of his panic stayed with him and for a few moments he heart continued to pound in his chest. Luke's eyes opened blearily, the room coming into focus and then instantly going fuzzy. He didn't understand what was going on, or why someone was in his room.

There was a small pause, and then: "Get your ass out of bed. Breakfast is in twenty and if you don't go they'll blame me."

Luke's eyes snapped open, immediately coming to rest on the other occupant of the room. The Cinema Snob was situated in front of the only mirror in the room, running his fingers through his hair with an intense look of concentration on his face.

In a sudden, nauseating flash the events of the previous day reared their ugly head and Luke felt his stomach turn over. "Oh, God."

Snob gave him a fleeting look in the mirror before returning to the important task of fixing his coif. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Luke groaned, placing his pillow over his head and squeezing it around his ears. "Just wondering what the hell I'm doing here."

Through the down, he heard a faint chuckle. "Sound like a typical morning around here. Get up; it's almost seven."

Luke wasn't sure he had heard right. _"Almost seven?"_

"Haven't you heard?" The pillow was lifted off his head, and suddenly the Snob's scowling face was in plain view. "The day starts early in the loony bin. Are you getting up, or what?"

Luke swung his legs out of bed, but getting dressed seemed too difficult. He suspected the sleeping meds Spoony had given him were still trying to knock him out; a heady feeling occupied his skull and all he felt like doing was slipping on his sneakers.

Snob looked bemused. "You're going out like _that_?"

Luke felt his stomach curdle a bit? "What?"

Snob seemed to be stifling a laugh. "Nothing. Let's go. It's burrito day." He snorted. "Wouldn't want to miss that."

Luke shrugged, following Snob out the door and into the hallway. It wasn't until they had made a few turns that they passed in front of a mirror and Luke got a good look at himself.

Half of his hair was standing straight up, and the other half was plastered to his head. His face had been squished so hard into his pillow there were creases in it. His eyes were completely bloodshot, and had dark circles under them. His pajamas were twisted and mussed. In short, he looked like he had been in a fight with a tornado, and the tornado had won.

He looked crazy. Luke wouldn't have given his reflection money if he had passed him on the street.

For the second time in ten minutes, Luke felt nauseous. Snob must have noticed the stricken look on his face because this time he laughed out loud. "Tried to tell you," he said condescendingly. "For Chrissake, clean yourself up a little. If I have to be associated with you it shouldn't be as 'the weirdo's roommate.'"

Luke frantically ran his hands through his hair and rubbed at his face as they rounded a corner and happened upon a short line. Snob walked to the back nonchalantly, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his suit jacket and leaning against the wall. At Luke's confused expression, he jerked a thumb at the front of the line. "Pill call."

"I don't take pills," Luke answered automatically.

Snob raised an eyebrow at him- it seemed to be his go-to move. "Should you?"

Luke started to shake his head, but just ended up shrugging. He wasn't sure. He wasn't really sure of everything anymore.

The line moved quickly, and when Luke got towards the front he noticed a friendly-looking older man in a familiar yellow hat who was consulting a checklist. The man noticed Snob and gave him a genuine smile before ticking his name off his list. "Morning, Snob. How're you feeling?"

"The usual. Crappy."

"…No change…" the man mused, scribbling a note. He had obviously dealt with Snob before. Luke was busy trying to remember where he had seen that hat before.

"Anything particular to note?" the man was saying to Snob. "Feeling sick? Bad dreams?"

"Yeah, actually," Snob muttered, rubbing his chin in ill-disguised annoyance. "I've been having this recurring nightmare that some idiot in a yellow hat keeps talking to me when I'm trying to go to breakfast."

"…No change…" the man smoothly interrupted, apparently unfazed by the insult. He turned around and came back with a pill bottle, shaking one capsule into a paper cup with the mechanical actions of someone who had done this a million times. "Here's the usual, Snob. See you at breakfast."

Snob took the cup and pushed back the man roughly aside as he walked down the hall. No buffer between them now, the man turned to Luke and grinned. "Hi; new kid?"

Luke started to say yes, but something else entirely came out of his mouth. "Wario."

The man blinked. "What?"

"Your hat," Luke hastened to explain, as he had just realized where he had seen it. "Is that… I mean… is it a Wario hat?"

The man grinned, giving him a short nod. After a moment he went back to checking his list. "New kid?"

"Am I that obvious?"

"Nah," the man waved him off, checking his sheet in the meantime. "I just know everyone around here. Haven't seen you before, though." His eyes seemed to settle on something on his list. "Luke?"

"Yep."

"Luke," the man nodded affirmatively. "How are you feeling?"

_Like I want to run over to that window and jump out. _"Fine."

Any sickness, nightmares…?"

Luke briefly remembered cradling his teeth in his palms. "No."

The man shrugged, fiddling with the pill bottles and handing him a red pill in a paper cup, along with a small amount of water. "Here. I need to see you take it."

That was new. And Luke didn't like it. Too much like being under observation. But then, he _was_ under observation, wasn't he? "Why? I mean… Snob didn't have to…"

"Snob takes his with food. You don't." The man gave him a half-smile. "Bottoms up."

But Luke couldn't. Because if he did, it made everything a little too… _real_. Because once he did, he was really standing in a mental institution, monitored by a doctor as he was force-fed anti-psychotics. "I… um…"

"Hey, kid," a female voice called from behind him. Startled, he turned to find a young woman glaring at him, brunette hair gathered high in two pigtails. "Hurry up," she continued waspishly. "My clothes are going out of style."

Luke turned back around quickly, not liking the judgmental look she had given him. The man in front of him seemed to notice something was wrong, and gave him a sympathetic smile. "Look, it's not a big deal. I know it feels a lot like high school, but trust me; you'll find someone to sit with."

Luke took a moment to understand, but it soon dawned on him what the man was getting at; he thought Luke was nervous about _finding someone to sit with at breakfast_. Did he really look so pathetic? Pushing doubtful and self-deprecating thoughts down to his stomach, Luke managed to give the man a wavering smile. "Thanks. Er… cheers."

Chasing the pill with a shot of water, Luke finally proceeded down the hallway, trying his best to pretend it didn't feel like he was walking to the gallows.

"Congratulations," the woman drawled behind him. "I'm a hundred years old."

* * *

At least the cafeteria looked familiar; though considering it reminded him of high school, that didn't make for much of a relief. The finishes of a sunrise were streaming in through a pair of wide windows, washing over around circular tables with a few plastic chairs around each. To the left was a row of Plexiglas windows in front of wrapped and foiled food.

Each table was occupied, from anywhere from one to four people. Those alone seemed content to stay that way, and those with others were already engaged in conversation. No one even spared him a glance.

Just like high school.

Too nervous to care what he ate, Luke grabbed a tray and a few random foil packets and started scanning for a place to sit. He figured he would sit with the Cinema Snob, who would probably do nothing more extreme than regale him with the wonders of "Salo: On Ice." The Snob, however, seemed to already be occupied. Breakfast completely ignored, he was waxing lyrical to a short blonde man, who was furiously scribbling notes on a clipboard. They seemed perfectly fine without him.

Luke began to scan the other tables. There were two people with their backs to him; the woman from before and a man in a hoodie whose face he couldn't quite make out but who seemed to be intent on ignoring what the girl was saying. As Luke watched, the woman laid a hand on the hooded figure's shoulder, and he slowly leaned away from it.

Two men were at another table nearby, engaged in conversation. Or in argument, as both looked more than a little ticked off. The man on the left was tall and slim, wearing a black hat, spectacles, and (oddly enough) a loosely tied red necktie. The man on the right looked Latino, and was scowling under a goatee. His hair was spiked sharply and his fists were clenched, one threatening to bend his fork in half.

Luke didn't want to sit with them. He wanted to keep as far away as possible.

But who was left? Would he have to go sit by himself? That was a great first impression. They'd think he was a wimp, too shy to even make an effort. Or worse; they'd think he was some douchebag who thought he was too good for them. He was going to make an ass out of himself, either way.

Then, across the way, a small crowd appeared as they entered through one of the doors across the room and crossed through the cafeteria. At the front were the two nurses from earlier; Marz and the Wario-guy. At the back were Doctors Tease and Block. And in the center was Spoony, wearing a look of guilt that was ruined by the occasional smirk slipping through.

"…have trouble sleeping," Block was saying. "But you at least have to _try_. Not taking your medications, sneaking out of your room… none of this is going to help you, Spoony." Spoony shrugged, unconcerned. He leaned forward to speak to the male nurse.

"Hey, J-Dub. Say goodbye to your high score on _Gears of War 2_."

The man (J-Dub, apparently) let out a low groan. "Son of a _bitch_, man! I worked hard for that!"

"Spoony!" Doctor Block snapped, and the group fell silent as they hit the other set of doors. Just before they exited, Spoony looked up and saw Luke. He nodded a hello, grinned, and discretely jerked his head to the side. Then he was gone.

Confused, Luke looked to where he had nodded to. There was a lone man sitting at a table, face hidden by a comic book.

Spoony was telling him where to sit.

Slowly, Luke made his way over and sat down across from the man. At the sound of a chair being pulled out, the man dropped his book and looked up. Stocky, brunette, and pale, he was younger than Luke expected. Nothing too out of place, except for some reason he was wearing a trillby hat inside. And of course, the small stack of comics on the table.

"Hi," the man said with a small grin.

"Hi," Luke answered, and after a moment's hesitation he stuck out a hand. "I'm Luke."

The man took it. "Linkara."

Luke blinked. "Cool name."

"Thanks. I know."

After a small moment of awkwardness, Linkara picked up his comic book again. "Uh… not to be rude, but I was reading…"

Luke flushed. "Oh. Oh! Sure. I mean, go ahead."

Linkara looked back to his book, and there was a short silence. Luke cleared his throat again, and Linkara looked up warily. "What?"

Luke attempted a grin. "Could I… read one?"

Linkara's eyes narrowed. "Who are you again?"

Luke felt the same familiar feeling of embarrassment throttle him. "I'm Luke. I mean, I'm new. I… um…" he trailed off, as Linkara seemed unimpressed. He looked down at his breakfast burrito. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? Spoony told me to sit with you but I can-"

"You're friends with Spoony?" Linkara raised his eyebrows.

Luke considered the question. _Was_ he friends with Spoony? The man had force-fed him a round of video games, convinced him not to run away, and lent him sleeping meds that were still making him woozy.

If that's not friendship, what is?

"Yeah, I am. I guess."

Linkara seemed to weigh this, and then slid the stack of comics across to him. "Okay. Go ahead. Just be careful. Don't spill on them." With a sudden grin at Luke, he went back to his comic.

Luke felt an odd feeling of gratitude towards Spoony as he selected a Batman comic and settled down to eat. He had pointed Luke towards who was possibly the only person he could sit with who wouldn't expect him to talk. Maybe breakfast wouldn't be so bad.

At the exact moment that thought crossed his mind, something else crossed in front of him; a plastic glass. Spilling orange juice everywhere, it bounced off the floor unharmed. The plate following it wasn't so lucky. It shattered and the noise silenced the room.

Luke whirled around, only to have to dodge a spoon. The two angry-looking men at the table behind him had erupted into a fight. Actually, a fight wasn't the right word; it was more like an attack. As he watched in horror, the mustachioed man rose and pushed the shoulders of the man in the necktie, causing his chair to tilt backwards and crash noisily to the ground. The Latino started screaming at him, continuing to throw everything within reach.

"CRITIC! GET BACK HERE, YOU GODDAMN COWARD!" the attacker roared as his opponent frantically started to crab-walk away from the flying utensils. "I'LL MURDER YOU!" He pushed his own chair out of the way, attempting to climb over the table.

Within a few moments a large group of nurses swarmed the room, pulling the man in the tie (Critic?) off the floor and attempting to placate and restrain his attacker. "LET ME GO!" he growled, thrashing around as two aides gripped his arms. "GET OFF ME!"

Luke felt someone grip his shoulders, and he looked up to see Marz pulling he and Linkara from their seats. "C'mon, guys," she said frantically. "We're getting everyone else out."

Luke's eyes were glued to the group of aides currently clinging to the patient, who was flailing frantically, trying to free himself. Suddenly, his eyes landed on Luke's, and a fresh wave of anger seemed to consume him. "WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!" he growled, straining towards him and baring his teeth.

Luke did what he did best; he ran, leaving Marz and Linkara as he bolted out of the cafeteria. Anything to get away from the H-Bomb currently exploding behind him. They were close behind, and Marz grabbed his arm again as soon as they got outside. "Luke, it's _okay_. Relax."

"What… what was that?" he said shakily, trying not to stutter. Linkara, currently checking to make sure he hadn't left any book behind, answered without looking up.

"That was Angry Joe," he said, as though that explained everything.

To be fair, in a way, it did.

* * *

The rest of the morning went by in a haze. Perhaps it was the side effects of the sleeping pill that Spoony had given him the night before, or perhaps he was somewhat in shock from the events during breakfast, but Luke felt drained, inside and out.

It felt as if he were watching vague snippets of a movie as an intern showed up in his room to deliver his things and described to him Mark's not-so-encouraging reaction to the news that his former roommate had been committed to the local nuthouse. He didn't respond, and the intern didn't seem to care. What would he have said, anyway?

Marzgurl had shown up after an hour of him ensconced in his room and escorted him to a sort of common room. He had sat himself in a chair near Spoony and Linkara, who were currently involved in a deep debate over Doctor Who and didn't pay him any attention. He didn't care. He stayed silent, napping on and off, until Spoony had dragged him off the chair and into the hallway again.

It was only after a masked man accidentally knocked him over in his mad dash to escape that Luke finally snapped back to reality. His side stung with a dull ache from where he had crashed into the cold linoleum of the hallway's floor as he dusted himself off. He coughed as the air came back into is lungs, and momentarily the same brunette woman from before sprinted past him and out of view.

"Jesus. You okay?" Spoony helped him up.

"Yeah," Luke replied, more to himself than to anyone else, "I just got the wind knocked out of me. What was that all about?"

"Todd and Chick?" Linkara asked from up ahead. "Oh that happens every other day. It's normal for them."

"_That's_ normal?" Luke asked, incredulously as his eyes looked down the corridor where the two had disappeared.

Suddenly, he couldn't help but feel a knot once again twisting in his stomach as his own subconscious once more questioned his decision not to run away last night.

"Or what passes for normal around here, anyways," Snob added, coming into view. Apparently, he had finally shaken his blonde shadow and seemed a little peeved that no one else was interested in what he had to say.

"So," Luke couldn't help but find his curiosity getting the better of him, "Are they like a married couple needing counseling or something?"

At this, the other three burst out laughing. But, much to Luke's surprise, and relief, it was not a mocking laughter, but rather the amused laughing of three friends sharing an inside joke with one another.

"Heh," Spoony grinned, "Chick only _wishes_ that they were married. She practically purposes to him every week."

"It's a little weird," Linkara said, half explaining things to Luke, "No matter how many times he tries to tell her that he's not in love with her, she just keeps thinking he's playing hard to get. Something about 'hiding his broken soul under a mask of disinterest.'" He paused, laughing slightly. "And, uh, fabric too, apparently."

Luke smiled. "Yeah… what's that about."

"Who knows?" Spoony shrugged. "Nobody around here's even seen what he looks like. Critic tried to take the mask off while Todd was sleeping one night and take pictures. Let's just say that he failed. The housekeepers were cleaning blood off the floor for days. Good thing Todd apologized later, though."

"Block and Tease seem to think he's insecure about his face," Linkara continued, "They keep telling him that there's no point in him wearing the mask, that he's got to accept that nobody is naturally a vision of physical perfection—"

"—Except me, obviously," Snob added quickly, earning an annoyed eye-roll from the two other patients.

"Not even you, Snob," Linkara replied, "Seriously, I thought the doctors had you working on that whole narcissism issue."

"Can't fix what isn't broken," Snob sniffed.

"Whatever," Linkara rolled his eyes.

"So," Luke asked, "Let me get this straight. Todd's here because he won't take off a mask, and Chick's here because she thinks she loves Todd?"

"Well," Snob replied, "Not exactly. Chick didn't really even meet Todd until after she checked in; much less get obsessed with him."

"So, what is she here for?" Luke asked, his curiosity now piqued, against his better judgment.

"Who cares?" Snob replied, "Apparently some drinking problem that got way too out of hand. Nobody's really sure exactly what happened to get her in here, beyond that. She doesn't really like talking about it."

"Still," Spoony said, "her devotion is still pretty impressive. Last time, they nearly made it to the other side of the city before the doctors caught up with them. Had to get Todd down from a tree."

"Eh," Linkara said, "I doubt they'll get too far this time. It's group therapy day, today. I give them five minutes before we see them back in here. "

"Five minutes?" Snob scoffed, "I'd say more like five….four…three…two…"

Just as the words escaped his lips, the masked man and the pigtailed girl were lead back through the hallway by at least four beleaguered looking doctors and nurses. The two currently restraining Chick seemed to be having the greatest difficulty of the group, given that she was currently trying to squirm her way out of the nurse's grasp, having not quite given up on chasing her supposed object of affection.

Luke, however, noticed none of this, as that it suddenly felt as if his insides had been replaced with solid ice. Much like when he was first admitted into the ward, he felt as if his fingers and toes had gone numb, anchoring him down to one spot as his breaths began shallow and rapid.

"G-group therapy?" he asked, hoping he had heard wrong.

"Yeah," Linkara said slowly, arching an eyebrow, "Group Therapy. I thought that Marz already told you about it."

As Luke felt he should have been used to by this point, that uncomfortable knot of dread clenched in his stomach as he imagined the whispered voices and the judging stares of the other patients as he tried to mumble out responses.

The worst of all would be the doctors, scribbling down their notes as they glared at him with that librarian gaze. _He doesn't know what he's talking about,_ the notes and the voices would say, _He's just some hypochondriac who doesn't belong here._

_Wait, _Luke caught himself as the thought passed, _What am I saying? Isn't it a good thing if they think I don't belong here? That'd mean I wasn't crazy, right? _

"Yeah," Spoony sighed, "It's kind of bullshit, really. How in the flying blue fuck is _sharing my feelings_ supposed to help me sleep at night?"

"Hey," Snob replied, grinning, "the rest of us have no problem falling asleep whenever you start talking."

"So says the man who'll go on about himself for hours at a time when anyone asks 'how was your day?'" Spoony smirked, "You're a cure for insomnia. They should just lock us in a room together."

"Hey!" Snob snapped, "We were roommates for a couple months, remember? And you didn't sleep at all then, either."

"Back to the point," Linkara butted in, "it's probably not going to be anything major today. What with the newbie and all. Probably just going to do another one of those 'get to know everyone' sessions."

At this, Luke's terror shot up from terrified to a level of fear and terror that, had he not been experiencing it, he would have been pretty sure wasn't humanly possible.

Two thoughts ran through his mind with such swiftness that it would have impressed the speed of light. One; not only was he being forced to attend a therapy session in which he would most certainly be scrutinized for every little word he said. Two, and probably most frightening, was that he'd most likely be in the same room as the screaming guy from breakfast, Angry Joe if he remembered correctly.

The last thing that he wanted to do was to accidentally say something wrong and offend a loose cannon with a hair-trigger temper.

_It'll be okay, _he tried to tell himself, taking a deep breath. _Just make it through this hour and then you can just go back to your room and hide under the covers for the rest of the afternoon._

* * *

The therapy room very strongly reminded Luke of a kindergarten classroom, with the circle of brightly colored plastic chairs and the pastel sea-green walls. From the numerous motivational posters that plastered the walls to the hand-drawn pictures of varying quality, it did give a hint of '_trying so hard to be positive and encouraging that it's almost condescending.'_

Regardless, he was glad of the numerous distractions, as all eyes currently seemed to be focused on him. After all, he was the only thing in the room that wasn't there the previous week.

In the corner was the young blonde-haired man, studiously watching the patients as if he were completely fascinated by the mere notion of people sitting in a circle.

"Film Brain," Snob informed him. "Med student. Writing some paper on us. He's like a puppy—keeps following you and won't go away, but he's mostly harmless. You get used to him, eventually."

"Okay everyone," Doctor Tease said silencing the room, "Before we can continue our weekly experimentation—"

"—_therapy_," Doctor Block corrected through gritted teeth, giving a discreet nod toward the patients

"—To make you all a little less cuckoo—"

"—_To help them control their conditions and aid them in functioning in society,"_

"Oh, that sounds like a good idea, too!" the blonde doctor said brightly, eliciting a frustrated sigh from her colleague, "We should make sure to do that at next week's session."

"Anyways," Doctor Block said, ignoring her partner, "We'd like to introduce a new patient who'll be joining us for the time being. I'm sure most of you have probably already met him, but I'd like to formally introduce him for everyone who isn't familiar with him yet. Luke? Would you like to say a little about yourself, please?"

If anyone were to look at Luke's expression at that moment, they would say that he looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a truck, but even that wouldn't have been an adequate enough to describe the wide-eyed, frozen shock and terror on his face as everyone looked at him with an expectant look.

Swallowing, he tried to conceal his panic under a mask of calm thoughtfulness, as if he were simply planning the best moment to begin speaking, rather than scrambling like a procrastinating college student the night before a paper's deadline.

He remembered something that he had heard a long time ago:_ If you're nervous, try making a joke. If they laugh, they won't notice that you're scared._ He couldn't remember who'd said it, but at that moment he was glad that they had told him that. As flawed as the logic was, it was pretty much the only solid plan he had at the moment.

But what exactly should he say, he wondered? He wasn't exactly the best when it came to trying to be witty, especially under pressure. _Calm down, Luke,_ he told himself, taking a deep breath, _just say something. Even if it's not that funny, they'll forget about it in five minutes, anyways. _

"Uh, H-hi," Luke said meekly, "I'm Luke." There was a small pause. "I'm uh… the newest rat in the maze."

The weight of the silence could have crushed mountains as it dropped on the room with the force of a nuclear explosion. Sweat beaded on the brown-haired man's brow as he gave a weak laugh.

_Okay_, he thought, rubbing his neck. _So that didn't work. Now they think that I'm a total dork. That's okay, don't panic. Just don't say anything._

"Thank you for that, Luke," Doctor Block said, adjusting her glasses, "Anyways; we'll be doing partner-sharing today. Doctor Tease and I would like to divide everyone into pairs."

The shorter doctor withdrew a hat from her behind her back, and dumped a handful of slips of paper into the hat.

"Just so that we keep things fair and random," Doctor Block continued, shaking the hat up, "Each piece of paper has a name written on it. Whoever's name you draw will be your conversation partner. Doctor Tease and I will go around and talk with each group briefly after a while."

Luke's nervousness started to rise again as the hat drew closer and closer to him. Sure, a one-on-one session meant that there were less watchful eyes upon him, hungrily waiting for the moment where he slipped up so that they could mock him mercilessly, but that didn't make it any easier. This only meant that it was a more intimate setting, and thus his flaws would become much more noticeable.

With shaking hands he reached into the hat and withdrew a slip of paper. Silently, he prayed that he drew the name of someone he was already a little used to talking to. Even Snob would have been preferred. At least he already knew that Snob probably already didn't have any expectations of him that he could fail at. Hell, he thought, Snob probably didn't have high expectations of anyone besides himself.

As if the paper were a ticking bomb, the brown eyed young man carefully unfolded it. For a moment, he stared blankly at the name written on the thin slip, as if he had forgotten how to read.

Why, he wondered, out of all the people's names that he could have drawn out, did he have to draw out_ his_ name?

"Um, Luke?" Doctor Tease said, drawing him out of his stunned silence, "Would you please read it for us?"

"Uh, s-sure," Luke said, clearing his throat, "I got An-I mean, I got Joe."

* * *

**A/N: Okay. Background check.**

**I have NOT lost interest in this story. I have NOT given it up. I got sick. Very, very sick. To the point where I was in the hospital for a month. HUGE hugs to Zeshaika, my lovely co-writer. She sent me so much material I had to split some of it into the next chapter. **

**Thanks for your patience, and I'd love some reviews to make me feel better. **


	4. Chapter 4

Every synapse in Luke's brain was screaming at him to make a break for it as Angry Joe got up and sat down next to him. Random, desperate thoughts began to chase each other across his brain, from whether the chair he was sitting on would cause damage if he threw it to how quickly he could catch a bus to Wisconsin. Hell, at this point, he'd settle for just _running_ there.

But, that wasn't the point. He needed to be here, he told himself. He couldn't keep running away. How was he supposed to get any better if he ran away every time someone talked to him? Then again, he wasn't totally sure if he'd be doing any talking with Joe. Maybe he'd just lunge for Luke's throat when no one was looking. He knew nothing about what triggered Joe's outbursts of anger. For all he knew, his mere existence in the other man's presence could earn him a punch to the face.

It was around this point that he realized Joe was staring at him, and a few seconds later when he realized the two had been sitting together without speaking for almost two minutes. Swallowing in a futile attempt to cure his dry throat, Luke attempted a smile. And, to his surprise, Joe smiled back.

"So," Joe said, "You're the new guy? I'm Joe. But, you probably already knew that. You said your name was Luke?"

"Yeah," Luke mumbled, trembling slightly as he shrank back against the chair. Any minute now, he'd be head-butted in the face…

Joe raised a concerned eyebrow toward the visibly nervous young man. "Hey," he said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "You alright? You look a little green."

"Yeah," Luke said, taking a deep breath, "I-it's just... I get nervous around people." _Especially you_. But he couldn't say that part out loud.

Joe let out a little hum, leaning back in his chair. "Social Anxiety?" Luke's surprise must have been visible on his face, because Joe chuckled. "Got a brother like that. Guess crazy runs in the family." Luke winced at the word "crazy"; but Joe didn't seem to notice, continuing to talk. "And they had you introduce yourself in front of a group of strangers? That's gotta suck."

"It kind of does," Luke said, before he realized the words even escaped his lips. "I mean, making the guy who's afraid of public speaking give a speech? Isn't that kind of like having a recovering alcoholic work at a liquor store?"

Joe smirked. "Or having a guy with ADD lead a meditation class."

Luke grinned. "Or having a nymphomaniac sell lingerie."

At this, Angry Joe laughed warmly, catching the younger man completely off guard. For a moment, it was impossible for Luke to even believe that this was the same man that he'd seen earlier that day in the cafeteria. "Know what, though?" Joe said. "I envy you. I mean… keeping your mouth shut probably beats gettin' pissed off _all the time_. You know what I'm saying?"

"This isn't exactly a picnic," Luke sighed, tiredly running his fingers through his hair, "I mean, it's like there's this little voice whispering in my ear that's telling me that I'm going to screw up and everyone's going to think I'm an idiot."

"I hear you," the older man said, "I mean, I don't like getting angry over stupid stuff all the time. But it's like there's this switch in my brain that just flips on and stuff just pisses me off."

"Kind of like breakfast this morning?" Luke asked, immediately feeling stupid for asking. What if this triggered him? To his relief (and surprise), Joe blushed and ducked his head.

"You saw that, huh?" Joe asked, giving a weak, embarrassed laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Luke tried to smile. "It was kind of hard to miss."

"Heh," Joe said, leaning back in his chair, "Yeah, sorry about that. Some first impression, huh? Shit, you probably think I'm a raging lunatic." He let out a familiar laugh; Luke recognized it as the same one he gave when he felt stupid.

"Well…" Luke admitted tentatively, "I mean, just up until about a few seconds ago, I was afraid that you were going to uppercut me if I even said hello to you. But, you don't seem angry right now."

"The doctors made me take my meds, so I'm kind of in check," Joe said casually. "You should have seen me before I checked myself in here, man. I was about ready to rip someone's throat out with my teeth."

"You're not always super pissed off?" Luke felt his gut begin to unclench.

"Oh, hell no," the older man smiled, "Official name for what I've got is Intermittent Explosive Disorder; basically, I'm fine for the most part but every now and again…" Joe made a spreading motion with his hands and made an explosion noise. "But then… that's sort of true for most of us, huh?"

It was true, Luke thought with a vague sense of surprise as he nodded in agreement. They'd been talking for about five minutes so far, and not once had Joe even so much as threatened to gouge his eyes out with a leg of his chair.

Sure, his subconscious still whispered at him, telling him that he shouldn't be quite so carefree. After all, it was only a matter of time before he screwed up again. And he knew that eventually, the little black cloud of doubt would return. It was like glitter- no matter many times a person vacuumed and swept after using it, an errant flake or two would always turn up a week or two later.

But, that didn't matter right now. What mattered was that he'd actually had a conversation without feeling the need to crawl into a hole somewhere. Heck, that wasn't the first time that day- he had managed to talk to a few people earlier that morning. And, he had managed to talk to Spoony the previous night while they were playing video games.

So maybe, he thought with a bit of optimism, there was a good chance that being here would actually help him. All it would take was a little bit of time, effort, and to figure out what exactly caused this disorder within him; and maybe he could possibly stop feeling the need to run away every time he was around others.

The rest of the session went by rather uneventfully. For a while, Doctor Block had talked with the two of them, and after about an hour the doctors dismissed everyone, telling them that they'd resume their session next week.

Just as Luke was about to leave, he felt a hand grip his shoulder. Slowly, he turned around, only to find himself awkwardly face-to-chest with Doctor Tease. She smiled at him, and he was reminded of a cat looking at a bird with a broken wing.

"Luke," the tall blonde said, "We realized that we forgot to give you something to work on between sessions."

Doctor Tease withdrew a small red notebook from her pocket and handed it to the young man. Luke, taking the notebook, arched a confused eyebrow as he turned the book over in his hands.

"A notebook?" he asked, flipping through several blank pages, unsure of what to make of the doctor's gift.

"Yes," Doctor Tease said, "We'd like for you to make a record of your experiences with people you regularly interact with. You know; patients, doctors, nurses, other people not directly involved with the hospital."

"Um," Doctor Block interjected, pushing herself between them. "I'd like to clarify that for obvious legal reasons, we only want you to describe your emotions and feelings while interacting, not the actual conversations in question."

"Stupid lawsuits," the other doctor pouted, "And I really wanted to read all sorts of juicy gossip, too."

"Hush up," Doctor Block said, "The hospital said they'd fire us if we got another lawsuit filed against us. Anyways, after a week, we'd like you to return the journal to us, so that we can analyze and mark your progress."

"Hey, Luke!" he heard a voice shout from just outside the doorway. Joe, this time joined with Snob, Spoony and Linkara, stood in the doorway. "Come on. Game Room's open."

"S-sure," Luke stammered, hesitantly waving toward them.

"We'll talk next week," Doctor Tease smiled as she waved for him to join his fellow patients, "Wouldn't want to keep your friends waiting."

Luke followed them out the door, the unfamiliar word _friends_ echoing in his ears.

* * *

Now that Luke saw the Game Room in daylight, he couldn't help but admit that it was probably the most comfortable room in the entire ward. Granted, it, like most of the other rooms, radiated with a vague aura of coldness, but there were little things that off-set that aloof coldness.

For one, numerous bookshelves lined the walls, loaded with not only books of various sizes and thicknesses, but also a rather impressive collection of movies and games, a good number of which Luke, despite his relatively decent knowledge of film, had never really seen or heard of. And, if that didn't help, the large overstuffed green couch in front of the TV certainly did.

"Some of what's in here is stuff that the hospital provided," Linkara explained, as he caught Luke's eyes roaming between one of the bookshelves and a card-table with a few cards and puzzle pieces scattered about, "But, most of it is donated."

The curly-haired man couldn't help but notice a slight twitch in the other man's muscles as his eyes fell upon a copy of Shakespeare's plays with a few small tears around the edges of the spine, then jumping to a graphic novel lying open on its open pages, spine bent back.

"Easy there, man," Spoony said, appearing behind his roommate, gently grabbing his arm, "Let it go."

Swallowing, Linkara nodded slowly as he reluctantly tore his eyes away from the books and allowed himself to be dragged toward one of the card tables, where Angry Joe and Snob.

Nervously, Luke hovered around the edge of the group, casting nervous glances between them and the bookshelf. _They've seemed to have ditched you kind of quickly;_ a terrible little voice hissed in the young man's mind, _I don't think I've ever seen you manage to screw up that quickly before. _

Damn it, Luke swore to himself, wanting to sink through the floor. What had he done this time? Had he said the wrong words? Had he said the right words in the wrong tone? Had he looked at them just the wrong way? As far as he could remember, he hadn't said or done anything. Maybe that was it, he thought. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn't done anything. Maybe it was-

"Hey, Luke!" Spoony called from the table, breaking Luke's train of thought. "You gonna sit or what?"

Luke jumped, his face flushing a bright shade of pink, as he stumbled over to the table, hurriedly mumbling a string of apologies as he sat down. He felt as if his lungs were tightening in his chest with each apology he made. Eventually, his words started to become strangled and twisted as he started apologizing for apologizing too much.

Snob silenced him with a wave of his hand. "Forget it, will you?" The older man snorted. "You're too fucking _nice_."

Luke shrugged. "I'm Canadian...?" This got a pretty good laugh and slowly, Luke managed to calm himself down enough to breathe normally again. However, his consciousness warned him, it was probably better that he didn't say anything for a few minutes.

"Hey," Spoony asked, looking around the room, "Where's Critic? Thought he'd be here by now. Didn't he say he was going to lecture us why remakes are the worst thing to happen to cinema since snuff films?"

"Well," Linkara said, "I think Chick said that he wasn't feeling all that great during the therapy session today. He might have been shaken up from the fight he and Joe had this morning."

Suddenly, a very tense silence fell over the group, leaving Luke with an ominous feeling of foreboding in the pit of his stomach. "Shit…" Joe swore under his breath.

"Nice going, Joe," Snob said sarcastically, "You just _had_ to trigger him, didn't you?"

Joe glowered at Snob like a chained dog, ready to attack. However, due in no small part to the effects of the medicine he had taken, he remained seated, only casting a spiteful glare at the other man, as opposed to kicking him across the room.

"Hey," Linkara replied for the enraged man, "It's not like it's his fault. He probably didn't realize what he did. Isn't that right, Joe?" Joe nodded his head, still giving Snob a glare that could have melted a glacier. "Besides," Linkara continued, though his words lacked much conviction, "Maybe it won't be so bad this time."

However, whatever optimism might have lingered in the Linkara's weak smile plummeted like a lead balloon as the faint odor of cheap cologne wafted into the room.

Although Luke recognized the bespectacled figure to be the man that Joe had called 'Critic', but there was something distinctly different about him. Most obvious, he noted, was that the ball-cap was gone, revealing the man's dangerously receding hairline. Also, the black coat and tie had been replaced with a red Ascot and a purple bathrobe.

Even this man's posture was extremely different from the man he'd met earlier. While Critic seemed slightly more slouched, this man stood tall, walking with an almost snake-like grace.

"Damn it," Joe cursed under his breath again. "No one look at him. He's like a T-Rex; if you don't move, he won't see you."

"What's going on?" Luke dared to ask, though he felt this was the absolute most wrong thing to do. Sure enough, an eerie chuckle sounded right next to his ear and he flinched violently, spinning to find the Critic right next to him.

"_Pozdravi_; don't believe we've met," the Critic said smoothly. "Greetings and welcome to the Loony Bin. I'm Ask That Guy." He stuck out a hand for Luke to shake, and he did so, trying to be polite.

"Uh… I'm Luke Mochrie. Sorry," Luke said slowly. "Isn't your name Critic?"

"That's a very good question," That Guy said in a smooth, dignified voice. "And the answer is: no. It isn't. Actually, my real name is absolutely unpronounceable. Many have tried. Three of them lost their ability to speak, and fourteen ended up in the hospital with sudden-onset Parkinson's Disorder. For your own safety, it's probably better for you to just call me That Guy."

Luke didn't respond. After all, there wasn't much he could say to that. That Guy was somewhat overwhelming; like the man on the subway train that never quite understood the concept of personal space. And, there was the fact that there was something in his voice that was just too smooth, reminding one of the more Hannibal Lector types—someone just as dangerously intelligent as they were insane.

Or, it could have been that he was now practically inches away from Luke's face. His sharp blue eyes peered at the young man with the same amount of excitement a child has when finding a new teddy bear to eviscerate.

"You seem a fellow inquisitive soul, Luke Mockery. Feel free to stop by my room any time for an intelligent conversation and a few illicit drugs. You'll have to ignore the smell of fresh corpses and the semen-stained walls, floors, and ceilings. And of course, there is the Hummel figurine that's possessed by Satan…"

"That'll do, Critic," a new voice said, and the male nurse with the yellow hat came into view, scowling.

"Thank God, JewWario," Linkara sighed in relief. "I'm pretty sure he was just about to ask us to place the lotion in the basket."

"Sorry, sorry," he said under his breath, hurrying towards them. "I turned my back for a second to get his meds and he flew the coop."

"If you don't mind," That Guy said, barely disguising how irritated he was. He slung an arm around Luke's shoulders, and the boy flinched away from him. "I was just organizing a soiree with my new bosom buddy, Luke."

"Oh, no worries," JewWario said casually. "I just wanted to ask you… Oh, never mind. It was a stupid question."

That Guy's eyes lit up. "_There's no such thing_. What was it?"

JewWario jerked his head towards the door. "Can't remember. But I have it written in my office." That Guy released Luke, gripping JewWario by the sleeve and yanking him out the door. Luke sat frozen, and Snob sat forward with a sneer.

"Well, well," he said smugly. "Looks like you caught the pervert's eye."

"Shut up, Snob," Spoony said aggressively. "The kid's freaked out enough." He gave Luke an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. Sucks you had to meet him like this. Usually one of his less annoying personalities will pop up."

Luke felt his stomach plummet. "There's _more_ of them?"

Linkara nodded, absent-mindedly grabbing a set of playing cards and starting to shuffle. "Poor guy's got a bad case of Multiple Personality Disorder. That Guy's just one alter. He usually shows up when Critic feels threatened. Probably just him trying to threaten everyone else even more."

"Then there's Chester…" Spoony said, ticking the next ones off on his fingers. "And Dominic… that pirate guy… Donnie… And… um…"

Everyone got uncomfortable suddenly, and Luke started to get nervous. "Who?"

They answered in unison: "_Zod_."

"Zod?" Luke asked, not sure he had heard right. "Like, the Superman guy?"

"_Exactly_ the Superman guy, actually," Linkara nodded. "Most violent alter the Critic's got. Hardly ever shows up. Except when he does… well, you'll know."

"If it makes you feel any better," Joe interjected, "The Critic's gonna be horrified that That Guy met you like this. He'll come in and apologize, you just wait."

Luke shook his head, trying to voice the thoughts echoing in his head. "How are you all so casual about this? I mean, he could be anyone when he wakes up in the morning. Aren't you… _afraid_ of him?"

The four men looked at each other. Eventually, Spoony shrugged. "He's just the Critic." The rest of them nodded, and Linkara held up his deck of cards.

"Anyone for poker?"

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to all favoriters and followers. Read/ Review**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks for all the help from Zeshaika (check out her stories, y'all- I'm co-writer on one!). And thanks for all the wonderful comments.**

* * *

It was all too good to last. The "hello's" in the hallways, the constant invitations to play everything from poker to Pokémon, the almost-but-not-quite condescending smiles from nurses. Sure, it was coddling. But no one expected him to do anything other than be himself. No parties, no blind dates. No one forcing him out of his bubble. Not for a whole week.

Not until Art Class.

Art activities took place in the exact same room as group therapy, though the circle of plastic chairs had been dispersed around three long rectangular tables, forming three fourths of a square in the center of the room. The tabletops, he noticed immediately, were covered with huge sheets of brownish paper.

Several scribbled-down names, hidden amongst a sea of doodles and paint-splatters, separated each workspace from the ones next to it. Other names and sketches could be seen floating amongst the artful chaos. Luke assumed that those had probably belonged to patients who used to be here, but had gotten better and checked out before he'd arrived. At least, that what he hoped had happened to them; he shuddered to think about the alternatives.

Timidly, Luke sat down at a workspace at the edge of the table closest to the door and waited for the rest of the group to file in. Each sketch on the tables seemed to paint a brief portrait of the personality of the artist who'd drawn it.

Linkara had sketched out several superhero insignias. Spoony's area was messy and unfocused, with several games of tic-tac-toe and hangman from when he had evidently stopped trying to listen. Snob's area was full of notes for movie ideas, not a doodle in sight. And others still, like Joe's and Critic's, seemed to go between rough sketches of concrete objects to what could only be described as a collaboration between Jackson Pollock and Picasso after an I.V. of espresso and an obscene amount of cocaine.

And yet, he couldn't help but think that somehow their drawings, and those of the patients before them, seemed to connect to one another, forming one big picture that said: _This is us. We know that we're messed up and disjointed, but somehow it all works out in some way that we can't figure out._

Luke looked down at the spot at which he sat. Although some drawings already marked the brown paper, the area itself was still blanker than most of the other stations.

The blankness seemed to be inviting him to fill the space with whatever came to mind, to contribute his mark upon this mural. It didn't matter if it wasn't perfect, or if it didn't mesh well with the others; that wasn't the point. It was just something that simply _was_, and it worked; no demands, no questions.

But, at the same time, it emptiness seemed to pose another question in his mind, leaving the tip of his pencil hovering above the paper. Where did he fit in? It asked. How did this terminally shy kid make sense in the big picture that people called "life"? Did he even fit in?

He didn't have time to think about this as his hand, too heavy from holding something in mid-air for too long, dropped down upon the paper. Almost as if he were in a trance, he began to scrawl his name into an open square of space.

He might not have fit in anywhere yet, it seemed to say, but he was here, and for now that was all that mattered. He'd figure out the rest later.

No sooner had he finished writing his name upon the paper did he look up and nearly jump out of his chair. A woman, not one of the usual patients as far as he knew, stared down at him through a pair of squarish, thick-rimmed glasses.

Admittedly, Luke wasn't sure what to make of this rather terrifying woman who examined him. Of all of the people he'd seen thus far, she was probably the least "conventional", in terms of appearance. Everything about her, from her clothing to her tattoos and piercings, to the shock of vibrant red hair that stood out amongst the rest of her dark hair, seemed to bring to mind the words "punk rocker" into the young man's head.

"Um…" Luke stammered as the woman leaned in to get a closer look at him. Sweat beaded on his forehead as the woman's glasses slid down the bridge of her nose, giving her a slightly more annoyed librarian look, "I'm sorry, was this your seat?"

To his surprise, an amused smile popped up on her face. "Nope," she giggled, her voice surprisingly sing-song and sweet, "Though I probably look a little crazy, huh?"

"No, no…" Luke stammered again, his cheeks blushing red, "I wasn't trying to say that. It's just that I thought that, well…I mean…"

Again, the woman giggled, and much to Luke's amazement, she didn't seem to be laughing at him. "Ah, that's okay," she replied, "I get that a lot. Well, a lot of the volunteers here do, actually- some of us used to be patients here, ourselves. Guess we kind of felt like we wanted to pay this place back for helping us, y'know? Yeah, it sounds kind of silly to me, too. So, who are you? Wait, don't tell me….you're Luke, right?"

"How'd you know?"

"You wrote it down. Just there."

"Oh, right," Luke mumbled, blushing again.

"Anyways," the woman continued, "I'm Roses- or at least that's what everyone called me back when I was here. I'm the volunteer arts and crafts instructor at the hospital. Nice to meet you, Luke- I assume that you don't mind being called by your real name, do you?"

"N-no." Luke mumbled, "Should I?"

"Of course not!" Roses said, "You can call yourself whatever you feel comfortable with. We've got one rule in this class…."

Still smiling, the woman turned to the rest of the group, who had long since filed in and taken their seats, and were now just idly chatting with one another or doodling. As Roses' eyes fell on the group, everyone seemed to look up, stopping what they were doing. But, it wasn't the same kind of stand to attention that one usually saw between teachers and students, but rather like they were actually interested in what she had to say.

"Can anyone tell Luke what the first rule of Art Class is?" she asked.

"Don't talk about Art Class," Spoony snarked, grinning as a wave of chuckling laughter rose in response.

"Okay…" Roses replied, also grinning a little bit, "So, I walked right into that one. But for real this time: Can anyone tell Luke what the first rule of this class is?"

"_Kangaroo._" the group said in a sort of half-bored unison that was typically expected of a group that's only half listening, or has memorized the phrase for so long, it almost sounds like second nature to them.

"Kangaroo?" Luke blinked, swearing that he'd misheard the word.

"_I _was a kangaroo once!" an overly hyperactive voice piped up, "Or maybe I was just wearing a backpack the wrong way. Either way, people didn't like it when I tried to stuff them into my pouch."

Again Luke blinked, now noticing the enthusiastic man that sat on the opposite side of the room. Admittedly, he wasn't all that surprised to see that the guy everyone called Critic had adopted yet another alternate personality. Seriously, Luke thought to himself, he was more surprised that Critic didn't have an entire article in _Psychology Today_ devoted to him.

Unlike the wolf-in-sheep's clothing persona of That Guy, this new persona didn't seem like the type of guy who didn't keep people locked up in some twisted S&M dungeon in his basement. Actually, this persona looked like a homeless guy who walked in off the streets. An orange and blue knitted cap sat atop a wig of stringy black hair, blocking the top of a dirty overcoat.

"That's Chester," Snob explained to the young man, "We just call him the Bum. He pops up randomly. He's annoying, but harmless. Just don't give him change."

At the mention of the word "change" the Bum perked up, darting around the room like a hyperactive bee, waving a cracked Styrofoam cup under the other patient's noses.

"Change?!" Chester shouted enthusiastically, "You got change?! Aw come on, help a guy out, will ya? I'll use the money to teach a kangaroo how to do art! I hear they're very into Impressionism!"

Just before the Bum could make his way over to Luke, Roses had gently grabbed him by the arm and lead him back to his seat.

"Chester," she said gently, "You know that nobody in this ward has change on them. Besides, what did the nurses tell you about getting in people's personal space?"

"Oh, I know," Chester replied, as he took his sat down again, "They said 'Don't ever go into personal space without wearing a personal space-suit.'" Again, Roses only smirked and shook her head as she turned her attention back to the rest of the class.

"Anyways, 'kangaroo' is just a shortened way of saying "Can't go wrong". There's no wrong answer with both art and in life, you know?"

Although Luke didn't quite understand, he simply nodded. Sure, the idea of having a group motto seemed pretty silly to him, but he figured that there were probably worse mottos to have. At least with that, if he screwed up he could just roll with it and pretend that it was completely intentional.

_Not that anyone around here was going to buy that_, the little voice in his head added bitterly.

"Okay everyone," Roses continued, snapping Luke from his thoughts, "We've only got a few hours before they kick us out of here, and we've already wasted about fifteen minutes here, so let's get started with today's project. Today, I figured we'd have free draw. Do whatever speaks to you."

As Roses stopped talking, an idle mumble of conversation resumed, as everyone shuffled around the room, searching for various art supplies that could be used for their project. Naturally, Luke was the only one who didn't get up from his seat, and instead simply sat there as he tried to think about what to do.

His gaze wandered over to a rack of scissors sitting on the shelf next to a large stack of multi-colored construction paper and old newspapers and magazines (which, Luke noticed, seemed to be pushed behind a few random art supplies, as if someone were deliberately trying to keep them hidden). The scissor's stubby, rounded blades shone dully in the fluorescent light, giving one the impression that they probably weren't very sharp at all.

Of course they'd have safety scissors, Luke thought to himself. After all, nobody could be sure when Joe could have another rage episode, or someone could say the wrong thing to Snob or one of Critic's personalities, or Spoony could pass out in the middle of class.

Unfortunately, this little detail seemed to be the cherry on top of the already patronizing vibes the room held. It was like it silently said, "_You want to start over, right? Well, here's preschool for you all over again. Enjoy not being trusted with even the most basic of tools, asshole."_

Of course, Luke thought as his gaze wandered over the room, perhaps some of them didn't mind feeling like being in preschool again. Being free from the pressures of most aspects of adult life, and getting a chance to start with a clean slate, so to speak, didn't sound like all that bad of an idea.

He scanned the rest of the patients. Joe and Spoony had three new hangmans between them, and were now sword-fighting with stacks of markers. The Bum was wrist-deep in fingerpaint, green dollar signs already all over the table. The masked man- Tom?- had grabbed charcoal and was shading in a drawing, with Chick looking over his shoulder.

As his gaze noticed Linkara, sitting across the room drawing with markers, the young man couldn't help but wonder if perhaps stress was the reason that the fedora wearing patient was here in the first place.

So far, Luke had noticed, Linkara seemed to be the closest one of the group to the definition of what one could consider 'normal'. He seemed the most level-headed and approachable of the bunch, and didn't seem to behave in any way that obviously indicated any sort of mental disorder. Sure, wearing that hat and that jacket of his all the time was a little odd, but it certainly wasn't anything weird enough to commit him to a mental hospital.

Shrugging the thought out of his mind, the young man stood up and crossed the room. He couldn't worry about the reasons the other patients were here if he ever wanted to focus on getting better himself. Hell, he wouldn't be able to get through this activity if he kept letting his mind wander like that.

Luke gave up on his inspection, grabbing a pair of scissors, glue, a pack of markers, and a handful of newspapers and magazines without really looking.

His brain seemed to be on autopilot as he sat the materials down and began working on a collage. It was as if he'd lost himself in the action of cutting and pasting scraps together. It was like working on a puzzle, except that instead of a clearly defined picture of something pretty, like a vase of flowers, it was a scramble of current events and pointless articles over fashion tips for the summer.

It was a chaotic jumble of nonsense, but that's what made it work. Like Ward Four. Like life.

However, something in the back of his mind seemed to warn him that this was all too easy. He shouldn't have been having this easy of a time working on this, it tried to tell him, because when things were going this well, then naturally, something bad was bound to happen.

And, no sooner had the words formed in his brain, did something indeed go wrong.

He had just begun to touch the rounded edges of the scissors to a page of a comic book that had been at the bottom of the pile when he heard a shout of anger echo from across the room. The younger man didn't even have a chance to look up before something heavy slammed into him from out of nowhere. A sharp crack, followed by a dull throbbing pain shot through the back of his skull as his head slammed against the table.

Once his eyes were able to focus again, he saw Linkara had gripped him by the back of his shirt collar with one hand. He looked like a bull that had just spotted a field of red, with wild eyes and a deep scowl upon his lips. Not helping matters in the least was the fact that he had somehow gotten a hold of the pair of scissors that Luke had been using, and was holding them in his fist.

"What do you think you're _doing_?" Linkara demanded.

"I-I was making a c-collage," Luke stammered, his voice barely rising above a terrified whisper. "I wasn't doing anything wrong! I swear!" Linkara's arm was pressing him into the table, his chair kicked across the room. No one else moved. No one even breathed.

"You butchered God knows how many valuable books!" Linkara shouted.

"But…" Luke tried to explain, but found a hot bubble of panic rising in his throat, "They weren't….I didn't think they were…." From the corner of his eye, he saw Roses sprint out the door.

"What?" the older man asked, still shouting. "You thought it was just an old comic book?! You thought that that made it worthless, and that meant you could just cut it up into pieces and then just throw the scraps away?!"

Suddenly, Linkara slammed the scissors onto the table, the point only an inch from Luke's face. "Well," Linkara continued, his voice now dropping to a low, terrifying growl that dripped with venomous hatred, "Let me ask you something. How would you like it if someone cut you up and just left you there, abandoned- nobody wanting you anymore because everyone took one look at the damage and flaws and just assumed _you_ were worthless?!"

"That's enough!" Roses said, firmly taking hold of Linkara's shoulder, "Linkara, let him go." She had returned with backup: a disappointed JewWario.

Still glaring, the hat-wearing young man reluctantly let go of Luke, allowing the younger man to slide down to the floor, breathing raggedly in shock.

"Do you need to talk to someone, Linkara?" Roses asked more gently, resting her hand on Linkara's shoulder.

Linkara's shoulders were heaving as he gave a hesitant look over the tattooed woman's shoulder toward Spoony. The dark-haired man had been hovering about two steps behind Roses, concern and worry clearly written underneath the layers of tired weariness etched upon his face.

From what Luke knew of Spoony, he guessed that the older man was probably stuck in that awkward position of being probably one of the few people who knew how to calm Linkara down, and knowing that he couldn't because he wasn't either a doctor or a nurse.

Spoony simply nodded, silently answering whatever question Linkara might have been silently asking. Linkara's shoulders slumped.

"Yeah," he sighed heavily, "Probably."

Without another word, not even an apology, Linkara followed the yellow-hatted man out of the room, leaving a terrible, but brief ringing silence in their wake. Work resumed as if nothing happened, leaving Luke on the floor, dazed with shock.

Roses and Spoony rushed to his side, gently helping him stand. "Luke," Roses asked carefully, as she dusted him off, "Are you alright?"

Luke felt as if he'd forgotten how to talk as he tried to steady his still-spinning head. Instead, he only gave a quick nod in response, which seemed to be enough for Roses, as she kindly helped him back into his seat. With one last squeeze on his shoulder, she was gone. Spoony sat down next to him, in front of the name "Brentalfloss." A former patient?

"Look," Spoony added "After the meds wear off and he stops hearing colors, he'll apologize to you. He probably feels really bad. And if he doesn't, I'll kick his ass until he does."

Involuntarily, Luke grinned as Spoony gave him a smirk and a pat on the shoulder as he started to return to his seat, convinced that the younger man was going to be okay.

But, that smile faded as Spoony's back was turned. This was a learning experience, a nasty little voice in his mind said smugly. This was a sign to him that no matter what he did, he was undoubtedly going to ruin it- it was like the law of the world.

_The sky is blue, grass is green, and Luke will inevitably screw up big time._

* * *

It was two in the morning, and Luke couldn't sleep. Not after the incident with Linkara. He lay awake, listening to Snob snore, thinking about how he could have avoided what had happened.

He could have drawn, or painted instead. He could have asked someone what was wrong with Linkara. Or- better yet- he could have just kept out of that stupid park, and never ended up checked in here at all.

Rolling over, he pressed the "CALL NURSE" button next to his bed. After a long five minutes, Marzgurl poked her head in the door. "Luke? Are you okay?"

Luke grinned inwardly; Marzgurl was still one of the few people he didn't feel self-concious around. Whether it was her being a nurse, or just her calm personality, he didn't care. He sat up, rubbing his face. "I can't sleep. Can I get something for that?"

"Something like what?"

"Anything that will knock me out. Please?"

She grinned at him. "How about we take a walk."

He groaned. "Outside? It's freezing."

"No. Just come down the hallway with me a bit. I want to show you something."

He shrugged, sliding out of his sheets and following her. Snob muttered something about squirrels as the two left and shut the door. They made their way down the hall, and as they neared the Game Room Luke heard the faint strains of an unfamiliar sound.

Music.

Marzgurl stopped outside the door, gesturing him to go inside. He did, and his eyes widened. There was a keyboard set up at the side of the room, with JewWario standing guard next to it. Sitting at the keys was the masked man- Ted?- playing an unfamiliar piece. And there, asleep on the couch, was Linkara. Luke swallowed, turning around and trying to get back out the door. The knob wouldn't turn.

There was a muffled noise behind him. "Mph… Luke?"

"Damn it, Marz," Luke muttered under his breath. He turned, trying to appear calm. "Hi, Linkara."

Linkara tried to smile. "Hi. Can't sleep?"

Luke shook his head. "You?"

The older man looked down. "No."

The music filled the silence, and Luke tried to change the subject. "So… piano?"

"We bring it in at night once a week," JewWario said. "Todd's a model patient, and he needs to practice. Right Todd?" The masked man nodded.

"You play?" Luke asked. Todd turned slightly, and Luke took a step back. The mask was unnerving.

"Used to," Todd said in a monotone.

"You still can, Todd," JewWario said encouragingly. Todd shrugged, but he didn't stop playing.

Linkara smiled. "I like to come in and listen."

Luke nodded. "I would too. You're really good," he said to Todd. For a second he thought the ghost of a smile flashed over Todd's mouth, but it was gone.

"Luke," Linkara said. "I'm sorry. I overreacted." Luke shrugged, looking down. Linkara blinked blearily up at him from his spot on the couch. His hat had fallen off, and for the first time Luke saw how young he was. Only a few years older than him.

"It's the books," Linkara said softly. Luke didn't know if he had heard correctly, but he repeated it. "Books. I…"

Linkara looked down. The music went on, but more softly. Luke had the feeling Todd was listening in.

"I used to work in a bookstore," Linkara said in the same tone. He didn't look at Luke. "A small one. People could turn in old books, and we'd sell them. And if we got one that was broken… missing a page, spine cracked, torn up… my boss made us throw them away."

He paused. "I… I don't know. I felt_ bad_ for them. It wasn't fair. You could still read them. They weren't useless. They just needed someone to fix them. So… I'd take them."

Luke's eyes widened. "What, like… you'd buy them?"

Linkara shook his head. "I'd just take them. All of them. My boss didn't know. No one did. I'd keep them in my apartment. In boxes. There were boxes of books everywhere. In the kitchen. In the hallway. In my room. And I kept taking more of them. If there was a book that no one was buying, I'd take it home. Comic books, especially. No one ever bought the comic books. They'd just _sit_ there. Because no one wanted them…"

He trailed off, but cleared his throat. "My boss found me slipping a comic book into my coat. He pressed charges. The police came to my house. They found all the boxes. They called me… called me a _hoarder_. Like I was some psychopath with trash everywhere. But it wasn't trash. Just books."

Linkara paused for a long time, until Luke felt pressed to say something. But he started again, speaking so quickly Luke could barely understand him. Like he had to say it all at once, or he would never get a chance to say it again.

"There was over seven thousand dollars' worth of books in my house. My lawyer told me to plead insanity. Otherwise I'd go to prison for theft. The psychologists called it 'Bibliomania.' It's a form of OCD, apparently. So I'm not in prison. I'm here, instead. And I've been here for almost a year."

He looked up at Luke, trying to smile. There were tears pricking the corners of his eyes. "Next week is my anniversary."

The room was silent; Luke hadn't even realized until now that Todd had stopped playing the piano. No one spoke. Finally, Luke spoke.

"I'm sorry."

Linkara looked at him. His voice was shaky. "Why are _you_ giving _me_ an apology?"

Luke shrugged. "I don't know. But I think you need one."

Linkara nodded. And, just like that, he started to cry. Not the restrained, self-conscious crying Luke had seen his friends do when they went to a sad movie. _Sobbing._ He folded in on himself, gasping for breath. Luke didn't know what to do, but he realized Linkara was saying something.

"Thank you. Tha-ank you. I'm sorry. Thank y-you."

Luke felt a hand on his arm. JewWario was leading him and Todd out of the room. As they stepped out the door, he and Marzgurl exchanged a look and she nodded. Todd was silent, but as JewWario pointed him down the hall to his room he gave Luke a look from under his mask. He may have nodded. Luke couldn't be sure.

"He was thanking me," Luke said numbly as JewWario ducked back inside to calm Linkara down. Marzgurl nodded, leading him gently down the hall.

She whispered, "You should feel privileged. Linkara has told that story to maybe five people in here, myself and the Doctors included."

"But why was he thanking me?" Luke asked her.

She gave him a sad smile. "I think he just needed someone to listen."

Luke didn't know what she meant, but he didn't sleep at all that night. He kept seeing mountains and mountains of books, and one man at the top, trying to climb down and failing every time.


End file.
